Leaving Things Unsaid
by alicenotinwonderland
Summary: Hermione is about to die and she thinks about the one thing that's eaten away at her for the last five years. AU!


_Blood._

It brought back too many memories, each one more horrific than the last.

Hermione fell to her knees, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding from the large gash the Death Eater had cut into her thigh just before she blasted him out the window.

"_What's wrong with him? Harry! Harry!"_

She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She'd been fighting in the war for over two years now. She should have been used to all the blood. But she still couldn't stop the memories from playing in her head whenever she saw the red liquid. Harry had died five years ago. She should be past that by now.

_Hermione awakened with a gasp to the sounds of Ginny's screaming. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the harsh lights, blinking away the image of bulbous yellow eyes. She was in the Hospital Wing. How had she gotten there? The last thing she remembered was looking into a mirror around the corner of the library. Those big, yellow eyes…_

"_Harry! No!"_

_That was Ron's voice wasn't it? Why were they all screaming Harry's name? Her brain was slowly catching up. She'd seen the basilisk's reflection. That meant she must have been Petrified. She spotted McGonagall moving between the beds, a goblet in her hand. She must have just been administered the antidote then, which explained how she was in the Hospital Wing. She must have just woken up. But why weren't her friends around her bed then? Why were they yelling about Harry?_

_It was then that she spotted the crowd around the bed on the far side of the room._

She hauled herself to the corner and collapsed onto a pile of rubble there. The fighting had moved away from that area of the castle. Hogwarts had served as a good headquarters for the Order for almost four years now. Voldemort hadn't been able to breach the defensive spells around it. But that had been before Dumbledore had died. It had been all they could do to hold the castle's fortifications and defences. It didn't help that more people had left every day. When they'd started off with the Order in her fourth year, most of the older students had stayed to learn to fight. Most of their families had stayed too. She and Ron hadn't been old enough but they had to stay! Harry had died to save them. It would be an insult to his memory if they didn't fight. Ginny had joined them too, despite her mother's protestations.

But not everyone could keep up the strength and determination they needed to win the war. Not everyone could fight year after year. They had lost a lot of recruits at the end of the previous year when Dumbledore had died. They had no real leader now. No Harry. No Dumbledore. No one to inspire them.

People like Ron and Ginny found strength in their memories of Harry. They found the will to fight in remembering that he'd died. Ginny fought because she felt responsible for awakening the basilisk that had killed Harry. Ron fought because he'd lost his best friend and his loyalty to Harry was unwavering. They rallied as many people as they could.

Hermione had refused to help them lead. She had agreed to fight but she couldn't think about Harry and be strong. She knew, deep down, that it wasn't Ginny that had led Harry to his death. It had been her.

_She tried to sit up but the blankets were too tightly wrapped around her. She needed to get there. What had happened to Harry? Why was he in the Hospital Wing? Had the Basilisk got him too?_

_Hermione remembered that her hand had been clenched around a piece of paper from the library. It had been a page describing the Basilisk. She'd intended to give it to Harry or Ron as soon as possible._

_A cold chill ran down her spine and she shivered, despite the blankets. What if Harry and Ron had found the paper and gone down to the Chamber on their own?_ _Was that why Harry was lying in a hospital bed?_

_Was it all her fault?_

The guilt had been wrapped around Hermione ever since then, just as tightly as those blankets had been. She removed her hand to take a look at the wound. She forced down a wave of nausea at the sight of the wound. It was still bleeding heavily – an effect of the curse, no doubt. She had no dittany at hand and no idea what the counter curse might be. The regular healing spells weren't working.

She had had an opening just before he'd cursed her. She could have buried him under a wall. But she never fought to kill. She'd never been a good fighter because she wasn't prepared to do anything it took to stop the enemy. The thought of killing someone…of making them bleed like Harry had that night…it just brought back all those feelings of guilt.

It was bad enough that she felt responsible for Harry's death. To feel guilty about anyone else would just drive her insane.

_She stumbled over to the bed, her legs a little wobbly after months of not being used. She squeezed between Professors Flitwick and Snape and nearly collapsed at the sight of Harry. He was still alive; he even managed a weak smile when he saw her. Blood was pouring out of a cut on his arm. "Hermione," he managed to cough. "You were right as usual."_

_She was sure she was as white as Harry was at that moment. "What happened?" she demanded, looking around at the group assembled around his bed. She looked desperately at the teachers. "Can't you cure him? Can't you heal that?"_

"_Basilisk venom has only one cure, Miss Granger," Snape answered. "It was too late to administer that to Mr Potter however. He – it's time to say goodbye."_

_Ron was holding Ginny. Both of them were crying silently. Mr and Mrs Weasley were blinking back tears as well. Hermione felt her eyes stinging at the corner. "No," she whispered, trying to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. "No, Harry, you – you can't die. You're the Boy Who Lived! You can't die because of a stupid Basilisk."_

"_You figured it out," Harry rasped. "And you're alright, you're awake." His eyes were drifting shut slowly. He looked around at everyone and his gaze lingered on Ron and Hermione. He opened his mouth as if to say something but he couldn't find the strength to form words. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowed. A minute passed silently. Two minutes. Three. His chest didn't move anymore._

_Snape shook his head and stepped away._

"_No, Harry. You can't die because of the Basilisk," Hermione squeaked, clutching Harry's lifeless hand. It was already beginning to go cold._

_Maybe she should have said, 'You can't die because of me.'_

She wondered how long it would be before Ron or someone else found her. She knew she couldn't walk or Apparate. She couldn't fight anymore either; the wound was sapping her strength. She was going to die here, she knew it.

It seemed somewhat fitting that she should be going the same way Harry had – bleeding heavily. What goes around comes around, she thought sadly. It was her fault that she hadn't gone straight to a teacher or even to Madam Pince. No, she'd been arrogant enough to assume that she and her friends could solve it all on their own. She hadn't even given them information on how to kill the Basilisk. She'd been stupid!

It was getting harder to stay conscious now. She remembered Harry trying to tell them something with his dying breath. That was the worst part of dying alone – leaving things unsaid. Why, she even had a letter to Ron in her trunk telling him she loved him. She'd never find the courage to tell him that to his face nor would she ever be able to send it to him now.

She'd never find out how the war ended. She'd never know if Ron and Ginny were safe. She must be close to death now if her thoughts were straying so much.

She closed her eyes, her breathing slowed.

Maybe she couldn't tell Ron how much she loved him.

But she could finally tell Harry how sorry she was.

A minute passed silently. Two minutes. Three. Her chest didn't move anymore.

* * *

**Er...Yeah I don't really know what I think of this story. I think it became too random at the end.**

**Review please? :)**

**This was for round 9 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. The prompts used were blankets, an undelivered letter and bleeding heavily.**


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